Be Free
by secretnorth
Summary: they deserved a happy ending. but those only exist in fairy tales.


The first time they met was by accident. He had been on one of his late night runs and decided to take a different route home for once. She was dancing on the bridge, absorbed in the music playing through her headphones. He wasn't looking where he was going. Her eyes were closed in concentration and blocked off everything happening around her. All was peaceful until they collided and landed in a tangle of limbs. He landed on top of her, their faces mere centimeters apart.

The first thing he would notice about her was her eyes. Dark and mysterious with a certain depth to them he couldn't explain. They stood out greatly against the pale, almost white, blonde hair piled into a messy bun on the crown of her head. He scrambled to stand up, his face flushed with embarrassment. Holding a hand out to help her up, he hastily introduced himself.

"Haruka, is it?" She would repeat, her brown eyes teasing and a smile playing on her lips. "Quite a feminine name, don't you think?"

She didn't bother mentioning what hers was.

/

The next time they met, no words were exchanged. He went back to the bridge, hoping to find her there, and it was as if she hadn't ever left. She was still dancing to music deaf to all ears but her own. He sat on the bridge railing and just watched, his eyes never once moving from the elegant dancer.

/

Every time they met after that for the next few weeks, the same pattern would ensue. He would walk there after his usual swim at the pool and there she would be. Never acknowledging each other's presence, just her dancing and him watching. They accepted each other, as if they didn't need to talk to communicate. They just…were.

/

One night when he went down to the bridge to see her, she wasn't dancing. Instead, she was watching the river flow beneath her. A pair of glossy black glasses was resting on the bridge of her nose, framing her gorgeous dark eyes. He stood beside her, a familiar silence settling between them as they watched the rushing water wind around the rocks. He wondered if she loved the water as much as he did.

"I've never had much time to swim," she commented, as if reading his mind, "what with my dancing and all. I love dance, I really do, but I just want to be…free. I want to live without the pressure of pushing myself to be the best. I don't remember what it's like to dance without that pressure."

"I've spent more of my life in the water than on land. But I don't swim competitively for that exact reason. I don't care about winning or improving my time. I just want to swim free," he admitted, surprising himself with his own words. He liked the sound of the double meaning.

"Swimming used to be a big part of my dance regimen. It was good for building up muscles and stamina when I was younger. I loved it, but soon sessions in the pool were replaced with more time at the bar. The water always seemed so free to me. It does what it wants to do, goes the way it wants, is what is wants to be…ah I probably sound ridiculous. I'm talking about water as if it's a real live person."

"No," he responded with a shake of his head, "I feel the same way. Something about it is alive. It's too bad you don't get to experience it as often now."

Then she would tear her eyes away to look up at him. Those eyes, oh, he could just get lost in them forever. Both of them would lean forward, but just as he thought they would kiss, she would pull away, an unreadable expression on her face.

/

Makoto noticed the difference in Haruka almost immediately. His expression wasn't so serious anymore. Not that he smiled or anything, but he seemed…happier according to his best friend.

"What's her name?" The tall, lanky, green-eyed boy asked.

"I don't know," he would state simply, not bothering to deny the obvious. He was too busy willing time to move faster so he could see her again.

"Ah, Haru, you are in way too deep." Makoto chuckled, shaking his head fondly.

Of course, he already knew that from the start.

/

Two months. Two months had passed until the day he finally learned her name.

"I figure you've earned the right to know." She flashed that mysterious smile of hers. "It's Masami."

"What, no last name?" He would tease with a smirk. "Or do I have to wait another two months to learn that too?"

"We'll see," is all she said.

/

He never talked this much with anyone. In fact, he probably spoke more with Masami than everyone else all together. Being with her got him all flustered and yet he always felt totally relaxed. He could talk to her about anything, but one glance into those warm, teasing brown eyes would make him forget everything he was about to say.

At first he used to watch her dance. Then, it was long talks as they watched the river. Slowly, they transitioned into sitting underneath the cherry blossom tree beside the bridge and doing just about anything. Sitting in silence and enjoying each other's presence as Haruka would draw and Masami would read one day, talking about the broken families they had come from the next. In a few short months, she learned everything there was to know about him, and he learned everything about her in return.

They couldn't be more different; they couldn't be more alike.

But they both longed to be free.

They just wanted to do what they loved without the pressures of competition.

/

The first time he found her crying, she tried to cover it up. He had arrived much earlier than usual because the pool was closed and was happy at the prospect of being able to spend more time with the lovely dancer.

She quickly wiped her sleeve across her eyes and flashed a smile at Haruka. But it wasn't the same smile she usually gave him. If he didn't know her so well, maybe that fake smile she had on would seem genuine. But he could see the hurt behind her façade.

"Haru! You're here early!" Masami would greet. Her hand shifted and something made of metal glinted in the setting sun.

He bent down and gently moved her hand to reveal a small razor. Eyes widening, he picked up her left arm that always seemed to be clad in a long sleeved article of clothing and pushed up the sleeve of her sweater.

Long scars, some faded, some just forming, ran up and down the length of her arm. Three of them were new, blood trickling down from each of them. Haruka shut his eyes tightly, not wanting to believe any of it.

"Why?" Is all he could manage to ask, his voice breaking.

He then wrapped her in a hug and they just stayed like that, both of them crying softly.

"So…sometimes I feel like…like I deserve it in a way," she would whisper. She sounded so broken. So defeated. It killed him to see her like this.

"No, Masami, you don't deserve this pain. No one does," he replied, pulling back from the hug and staring her dead in the eye. "Please stop this. Nobody should ever have to go through this kind of experience."

He shifted his position so that he was sitting against the tree with her between his legs and his arms wrapped around her thin frame. She leaned against his chest, and just her presence seemed heavier, like there were all these things weighing her down and he'd never noticed before.

It was as if she'd given up.

/

The first time she met Makoto they hit it off immediately. Haruka wasn't quite sure why, but he was just glad that they were friends.

"Haru, I think you're in love with this girl."

"Eh? We're not even in high school yet!"

"But…you both have old souls. It's not exactly like you two act your age. You connect on a deeper level and are more mature than others. You know more than your years."

"Don't be ridiculous, Makoto."

"Just trust me. She's a keeper. Don't let her go."

He wasn't planning on it.

But he never saw it coming.

/

They never fought or argued. There was the odd disagreement, but they would always talk about their opinions rather than forcing them upon each other. He always thought that there could never be any trouble when he was with her.

Nothing could ever go wrong.

Until it did.

And the weight of it all would crush him.

/

She was the only one who could bring a smile to his usually solemn expression with ease. She made him laugh when no one else could.

He made her forget about all her troubles. When she smiled, it was because she wanted to and not because of an act she put on.

They couldn't have been more perfect for each other.

They deserved a happy ending.

But those only exist in fairy tales.

/

He had finally come to terms with his feelings for her. He mulled it over for a long time, poking and prodding at the idea until he sorted through all the mess. When he realized just how strongly he felt for her, he felt free. Everything became even clearer than before.

He was so excited to tell her.

He ran all the way from school to the bridge, not bothering with going to the pool that day.

As soon as he could see the cherry blossom tree he stopped, hands on his knees, panting heavily to try and get enough oxygen in his system. He looked up, expecting to see those dark brown eyes, teasing behind her glasses, that familiar smirk tugging at her lips.

But she wasn't there.

/

He kept going back every day, hoping to find her waiting for him. She would be sitting against their tree, headphones plugged in, messy strands of light blonde hair falling around her face. Then she would look up, hearing his footsteps crunch against the fallen leaves, and pull out her headphones, letting them rest around her neck.

"Miss me, Haru?" She would tease, her nose scrunching up for a second in that adorable way as she flashed him a smile.

But she never came back.

She had disappeared from his life as quickly as she came.

/

A month passed but there was still no news about what had happened. One day when he went to the bridge, he found someone standing there, watching the river.

"There was a girl who used to come here," he would say, not bothering with formalities. "Blonde hair, brown eyes. Her name was Masami. Do you know her?"

"Y…yes," the lady replied, sounding surprised. "You're a friend of hers, I take it?"

As she turned to face him, he would realize she had the same dark brown eyes as the missing girl.

"Uh, yeah. Where is she?" He continued impatiently.

"Oh…you didn't hear." She launched into a teary-eyed explanation, but he'd only catch a few parts.

There was a car accident.

The truck ran a red light.

It hit the passenger's side.

She died on the way to the hospital.

Haruka would shake his head, denying everything he heard. "No, no that's not possible. She…she can't be dead!"

And with that, he would take off, running faster than he ever had before, tears falling from his eyes as he blindly ran, not knowing where he was headed.

Makoto would open the door on his way to pick up his siblings from a playdate to find his best friend on his hands and knees, crying. Not needing to hear an explanation for the rare tears, he'd bring his friend into his house and ask that one of his parents pick Ren and Ran up.

Haruka sat down on the couch, bringing his knees up to his chest and wrapping his arms around his legs.

It wasn't fair.

She was a good person.

Why did she have to die?

/

You didn't deserve to die in that accident. You were the best person I knew. I know we're not even in high school, but…I think I loved you. You taught me that even the bravest people could be broken. You showed me that sometimes people put walls up to see who will care enough to break them down, but other times there'll be that one person who finds a back door, and you don't realize it at first, but that person quickly becomes the only one who matters.

I wish you could have had more time.

I wish _we_ could have had more time.

That is, if there would have been a " _we_."

Fate is a cruel thing. It tempts and teases you with the prospects of something good, something that could make you really happy for once. You might be wary of this sudden joy. You think it might be too good to be true. But slowly you begin to accept it because maybe, just maybe, it's yours to keep.

Then fate rips that happiness away from you in the worst way it can.

I'm sorry it had to happen this way. I'm sorry you had to die, while the truck driver who caused the accident was allowed to live. I'm sorry that horrible man felt absolutely no remorse about it.

I'm sorry I couldn't say goodbye. I'm sorry I never got the chance to tell you how I felt. Fate aligned the stars to allow our lives to collide. But it tore the constellations apart, ruining the pure happiness I had once felt. It took the one person I cared for most.

Even Makoto can't make me smile as easily as you could. I don't know how you could always make me laugh either, while most people struggle to even get me to reply to them.

I miss you.

The earth itself misses you. The sun doesn't shine as brightly. The grass doesn't grow as green. The birds don't sing as sweetly.

Even the water doesn't seem as free.

And that scares me.

Sitting here, looking at your grave, it makes all of this seem so much more real. It forces me to see that things like this happen, and that it's not just some horrible dream.

You headstone is simple, nothing too fancy or big, but it says a lot to me. I'm sure you were somehow behind the quote inscribed on it too.

 _In Loving Memory Of_

 _Masami Wakahisa_

 _1997-2011_

 _Be Free_

Do you realize that the little line between those two years is supposed to represent your whole life? It seems so insensitive to imply that someone's life could be that insignificant. Especially someone like you. Someone so amazing and brilliant and perfect in every way possible.

Did you know what your name means? Masami means "elegant beauty," which I couldn't help but smile at when I searched it up. Your parents must have known how lovely you'd grow up to be.

Wakahisa, on the other hand, means "forever young." Painfully ironic, isn't it? It's fate, I'm telling you. It knew all of this would happen, and it wanted to make a joke out of it. Fate can be brutal sometimes.

Whenever I close my eyes I see your face. Whenever silence falls, all I can hear is your voice. When music plays, your dancing is all I can think of.

Wait for me, Masami.

I'll see you again one day.

I love you.


End file.
